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<div>How do I respond to claims that Cardinal Giuseppe Siri, not Pope St. John XXIII, was validly elected in October 1958?</div><div>This view espousing sedevacantism is historically untenable, at the least because it was held by no one at the October 1958 conclave, including Cardinal Siri of Genoa, Italy, despite the claims of modern <a href="https://www.catholic.com/video/the-errors-of-sedevacantism">sedevacantists</a>. 
Had he been validly elected pope, Siri would not have been bound by the oath that normally binds cardinal electors from discussing a papal election, except when a validly elected pope releases them from it. (The Church requires electors to take the vow of secrecy so that an existing conclave—and possibly a future one—cannot be adversely impacted by outside forces, whether political, financial, and the like.) 
Instead, Siri accepted the authority of all popes in his lifetime. Pope John XXIII appointed him president of the Italian Episcopal Conference in 1959, and Siri remained in that position under Pope St. Paul VI until 1964. He also accepted and signed the documents of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), a council that sedevacantists do not accept as a valid ecumenical council. Siri also participated in the papal conclave of 1963 and the two conclaves of 1978, actions further inconsistent with one who believed that he was the validly elected pope all along. 
Also, this theory only developed many years later, that is, in the 1980s, in an apparent attempt to make sense of problems in the post-conciliar Church. (Siri died in May 1989.) 
Sedevacantists also face a real problem in resolving who would be the new and validly elected pope and how he would be elected, given that Church law for more than eight hundred years has affirmed the college of cardinals election system, and yet all of the cardinals validly appointed by Ven. Pope Pius XII, who died in October 1958, are long dead. 
In addition, there are more recent sedevacantists who think that Pope Benedict XVI never validly resigned his office (Joe Heschmeyer, “<a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/was-benedict-xvi-the-true-pope-the-whole-time">Was Benedict XVI the True Pope the Whole Time?</a>”). But how do they propose we get a new pope when the majority of cardinal electors have been named by a pope whom they consider an antipope, that is, Pope Francis? 
Further, who gets to definitively decide that a previous pope was an antipope, oversee an updated process to fill the sedevacantist void, and, finally, certify that the subsequent conclave has produced a validly elected pope? No sedevacantist, clerical or lay, has the ecclesiastical standing to make those decisions. 
Finally, if what they say is true, then the gates of hell have indeed prevailed against the Church, contrary to what Jesus said in Matthew 16:18–20, because only these relative few—with their secret/gnostic knowledge—have &#8220;discovered” the truth, and only a good number of years later after the 1958 conclave when this supposedly happened, or more recently in the case of Benedict XVI. As a result, they inevitably—whether wittingly or unwittingly—impugn the Providence of God in doing what he said regarding the sustenance of his Catholic Church. 
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Responding to Sedevacantists

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What is Zionism?

<div>Did Pope Francis really teach that relationship with Jesus is dangerous and harmful?</div><div>Not at all! This is an example of a malicious and silly misrepresentation of what the Holy Father actually said. Here is a <a href="https://www.truthorfiction.com/pope-francis-relationships-jesus-dangerous/">link</a> which will clear the matter up for you.
What the pope taught is simply that to claim a personal relationship with Jesus while rejecting a relationship with his community the Church is false. As the Beloved Disciple says, how can you love the God you cannot see if you do not love the brother you can see? Those who love Jesus but hate the Church he founded are deceived. We could say that Jesus does not want friends who are not friends with all his friends, and these are to be found in the Church which he founded!
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Did Pope Francis Really Say That?

Immigration is a complex issue, and the Church wisely rejects two false approaches to it. On the one hand, it affirms that people have a right to migrate, and so countries cannot absolutely prohibit immigration. On the other hand, the Church rejects the view that governments must allow anyone to enter and remain within their borders. This means that the right to immigrate can be legally restricted. The Catechism says, “Political authorities, for the sake of the common good for which they are responsible, may make the exercise of the right to immigrate subject to various juridical conditions” (2241).
These conditions would entail that some people are not permitted to immigrate into a country, and, if they illegally do so anyway, they may face legal punishment, including being deported.
However, some Catholics claim the Church teaches that deportation is intrinsically evil. Rachel Amiri of Where Peter Is <a href="https://wherepeteris.com/deportation-is-evil/">writes</a>, “It is worth recalling that deportation is evil, and that Catholics affirm that all human beings possess a God-given right to migrate.”
Amiri <a href="https://www.chausa.org/publications/health-progress/article/july-august-2017/deportation-a-moral-morass">cites an article</a> in a journal affiliated with the Catholic Health Association of the United States: “The Catholic moral tradition has identified deportation — not simply mass deportation — with strong, morally objectionable language.” It cites the personal statements of some cardinals, but the only magisterial documents it cites are Veritatis Splendor and Gaudium et Spes.
In the former document, Pope John Paul II discusses the issue of intrinsic evils:
<blockquote>Reason attests that there are objects of the human act which are by their nature “incapable of being ordered” to God, because they radically contradict the good of the person made in his image. These are the acts which, in the Church’s moral tradition, have been termed “intrinsically evil” (80).</blockquote>
The pontiff then cites Gaudium et Spes to provide specific examples. That document says, in part, “Whatever is offensive to human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbitrary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, prostitution and trafficking in women and children” (27).
However, <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/is-deportation-intrinsically-evil">my colleague Jimmy Akin says</a> Gaudium et Spes is probably not referring to every kind of expulsion of a person from a place or country. Instead, it is referring to mass deportations connected with evils like genocide. In this article, I will support Akin’s original argument by surveying how the Magisterium has used the word deportation over the past century.
As Akin notes, the Latin word deportatio used in Gaudium et Spes has the same basic range of meaning as the English word deport. As of this writing, the Vatican website listed ninety-one mentions of the English word deport in its document archive. This includes papal documents that possess a range of authority, such as encyclicals and general audiences. It also includes documents from other departments in the Vatican and exchanges with the pope at things like press conferences, which, while they do not have teaching authority, can help us better understand the pope’s thoughts on a certain issue.
For example, every mention of the word deport prior to Gaudium et Spes uses the word as a synonym for comportment, or as a way of conducting oneself. In his encyclical on education of the clergy, Pope Leo XIII said, “What sad effects would not arise if that gravity of conduct which belongs to the priest, should be in any way lessened . . . if he should deport himself with pretentious indocility towards his superiors” (Fin Dal Principio 6).
The issue of immigration was discussed prior to Vatican II without any teaching that deporting those who had illegally entered a country is intrinsically evil. <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/pius-xii/en/speeches/1947/documents/hf_p-xii_spe_19471031_senatori-usa.html">In an address to members of the U.S. Senate</a>, Pope Pius XII mentioned immigration from Europe due to the aftermath of the Second World War and said:
<blockquote>The question of immigration today however presents wholly new problems. As always the welfare of the country must be considered as well as the interest of the individual seeking to enter, and in the nature of things circumstances will at times dictate a law of restriction. But by the same token circumstances at time will almost cry out for an easing of the application of that law. Wise legislation will ever be conscious of humanity and the calamities, distress and woes to which it is heir.</blockquote>
The pope was probably referring to instances where countries like the United States refused entry to Jewish refugees fleeing Nazi-occupied Europe, who were then murdered upon being returned to their homeland. But notice that Pius does not condemn deportation itself. He even acknowledges that restrictions on immigration will need to be made but that governments should mercifully consider exceptions to those restrictions in grave circumstances.
After Gaudium et Spes, the word deport occurs nearly ninety times in various documents. In seven cases it involves quoting Gaudium et Spes, and in twenty-five cases, it refers to biblical exiles like the Jews sent into Babylon in 586 B.C. or St. John’s exile on the island of Patmos. Most often, or in nearly fifty cases, the word refers to mass deportations that are part of an organized campaign to commit genocide and ethnic cleansing.
For example, it’s often used to refer to Nazi deportation to concentration camps, such as in <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/messages/pont-messages/2013/documents/papa-francesco_20131011_70-deportazione-ebrei-roma.html">Pope Francis’s address</a> on the seventieth anniversary of the 1943 deportation of Jews from Rome to places like Auschwitz. Or in a <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/1978/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_19781115.html">1978 address</a> where Pope John Paul II said, “Courageous men must be sought not only on battlefields, but also in hospital wards or on a bed of pain. Such men could often be found in concentration camps or in places of deportation. They were real heroes.”
It’s also used to describe totalitarian regimes like the Soviet Union that expelled dissenters into wilderness areas unfit for human habitation. In 2001, Pope John Paul II noted this transition from fascist persecution to communist persecution, <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/speeches/2001/june/documents/hf_jp-ii_spe_20010623_ucraina-meeting.html">saying</a>, “Liberation from Nazism marked the return of a regime which continued to trample on the most elementary human rights, deporting defenseless citizens, imprisoning dissidents, persecuting believers, and even attempting to erase the very idea of freedom.”
After Pope Francis visited the former Soviet state of Estonia in 2018, <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2018/september/documents/papa-francesco_20180925_voloritorno-estonia.html">he said during a press conference on the flight back to Rome</a>, “I went to the monument to the memory of those who were condemned, killed, tortured, deported. That day—I’ll tell you the truth—I was destroyed.”
The Church’s compendium on social doctrine mentions deportation only once, and it also links it to genocide:
<blockquote>The solemn proclamation of human rights is contradicted by a painful reality of violations, wars and violence of every kind, in the first place, genocides and mass deportations, the spreading on a virtual worldwide dimension of ever new forms of slavery such as trafficking in human beings, child soldiers, the exploitation of workers, illegal drug trafficking, prostitution. “Even in countries with democratic forms of government, these rights are not always fully respected” (158).</blockquote>
Finally, the essay Amiri cites notes this connection in the Compendium and expresses doubt concerning the moral status of deportation. It says,
<blockquote>Theological scholarship must grapple with the Second Vatican Council’s mentioning of deportation, John Paul II’s identification of it as intrinsically evil and subsequent references to mass deportation. Might the qualification of “mass” deportation be akin to moral distinctions between direct and indirect abortion? If so, is this distinction sufficient, or does moral wrongdoing linger in at least some instances of deportation per se?</blockquote>
In the ninety-one references to the English word deport, I found only two instances where the word is mentioned in the context of expelling someone from a country because he has broken a law related to the immigration process. In both cases, the word is uttered by a reporter asking the pope a question.
In the first case, a reporter from Reuters asked the pope about then President Trump’s comments on deporting illegal aliens and building a border wall. <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2016/february/documents/papa-francesco_20160217_messico-conferenza-stampa.html">The pope replied, in part,</a>
<blockquote>A person who thinks only of building walls, wherever it may be, and not of building bridges, is not Christian. This is not in the gospel. What you were asking me, whom to vote for or not: I won’t interfere. I only say: If a man says these things, he is not Christian. We have to see if he said these things, and thus I will give him the benefit of the doubt.</blockquote>
In this exchange, it’s not clear why the pope suggested that Trump might be “not Christian,” but it is clear that the pope doesn’t say deportation is intrinsically evil or even that it is evil in general.
More striking is a question the pope was asked during a flight from Colombia to Rome. In the context, the pope said it is important for young people to “find their roots” and their heritage. A reporter raised the issue of how “those young people can be deported from the United States.” <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/speeches/2017/september/documents/papa-francesco_20170910_viaggioapostolico-colombia-voloritorno.html">Pope Francis then replied</a>, “True enough, they lose a root. . . . It is a problem. But really, I don’t want to express an opinion on that case, because I have not read about it, and I don’t like to speak about something I haven’t first studied.”
Notice that in response to a question about deportation, the pope doesn’t immediately call it evil, but reserves judgment on the matter. This stands in contrast to his previously unabashed denunciations of intrinsic evils like <a href="https://apnews.com/article/abortion-pope-francis-health-ap-top-news-religion-5137019e19c5410aa7e2c2b68f21824f">abortion</a> and <a href="https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/250333/at-general-audience-pope-francis-says-the-dying-need-palliative-care-not-euthanasia-or-assisted-suicide">euthanasia</a>. Instead, he recognizes there could be mitigating circumstances that justify deporting at least some people from the United States—which means the pope does not think deportation is intrinsically evil since no circumstance can justify an intrinsic evil. Indeed, as Akin notes, in 1929, the Vatican signed an extradition treaty with Italy agreeing to return alleged criminals who sought refuge in the Holy See, which is not what we’d expect if all deportations were intrinsically evil.
But if deportation isn’t intrinsically evil, then why did Pope John Paul II list it as such in Veritatis Splendor? <a href="https://www.firstthings.com/article/2005/10/development-or-reversal">Cardinal Avery Dulles notes,</a>
<blockquote>Individual deportations of undesirable aliens occur continually as a matter of national policy today; mass deportations could perhaps be necessary for the sake of peace and security. . . . If pressed, I suspect, the pope would have admitted the need for some qualifications, but he could not have specified these without a rather long excursus that would have been distracting in the framework of his encyclical.</blockquote>
In response, some defenders of the view that deportation is intrinsically evil say words like expulsion and extradition should be used to describe morally removing someone from a country, whereas deportation refers to immoral removal from a country. They say this is like how murder refers to immoral killing, whereas homicide can refer to morally ending a human life. But although the Church has distinguished the conditions that make killing licit (CCC 2263-2264), it has done no such thing when it comes to distinguishing moral and immoral forms of deportation.
Even the defenders of this view can’t provide an objective standard to determine which reasons justify deportation (for example, committing violent felonies) and which do not (for example, illegal entry after fleeing genocide in one’s home country). Instead, it has referenced only obviously immoral deportations and allows civil leaders to make prudential judgements about whether other kinds of deportations are just or unjust.
In conclusion, Catholics should continue to promote immigration policies that respect the right to migrate and treat migrants with compassion while also respecting the right of nations to maintain sovereign borders. This would include the right, in at least some circumstances, to deport people who illegally enter.

Is Deportation Immoral?

<div>Does every country have a bishop?</div><div>Basically, yes, every country falls under the authority of a bishop. However that is not exactly the same as every country having a functioning bishop. For example, Saudi Arabia has no Catholic churches whatsoever but the territory of the country technically falls under the authority of Apostolic Vicariate of Northern Arabia which is based in Bahrain. It is not a diocese but rather is a territory that falls under the authority of an office of the Church which is headed by a Bishop.
Every diocese has a Bishop. If a country has no dioceses (like Saudi Arabia) it is usually deemed mission territory and is placed under the authority of a religious order or Church Congregation.
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Does Every Country Have a Bishop?

<div>Isn’t Lucifer not Satan?</div><div>They are the same. However, the name &#8220;Satan&#8221; is used exclusively of the evil one. It means &#8220;accuser&#8221; and refers to his constant accusation of the brethren before God. The name &#8220;Lucifer&#8221; means &#8220;light-bearer&#8221; or &#8220;morning star&#8221; and so is used also of Our Lord, as in the Easter Vigil&#8217;s Easter Chant, or in the blessing of holy water late, and is even the name of a saint in the Martyrology, St. Lucifer of Caligliari. So you could name your son Lucifer, and it would be a saint&#8217;s name! (I wouldn&#8217;t advise this, however, since we want the child to have a happy childhood!)
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Isn’t Lucifer not Satan?

<div>My wife is moving out and asked that I sign a "postnup" agreement. It seemed it may help her stress level, but I wanted to check whether it would be wrong, like a prenup is. We are both Catholic (I am actively so).</div><div>A postnuptial agreement is one made after a man and a woman are married but which, like a prenuptial agreement, pertains to how a couple’s affairs and assets will be settled if a separation or divorce—typically the latter— takes place.
Because a valid marriage entails the total and unconditional mutual giving of a husband and wife, any legal agreement that undermines the unbreakable nature of that marital commitment is necessarily immoral. Consequently, a postnup is immoral like a prenup is immoral: they both involve commitments with strings attached and thus incentivize for one or both spouses a breakup instead of striving to keep the marriage together. Postnuptial agreements are a foot out the door while professing still to be married.
Please advise your wife that you hope and pray you and she will be reconciled. If she persists in moving out and files for a legal separation, you may be required by law to help finance her new living arrangement. In addition, you may want to do so prior to any legal intervention to help foster your marital reconciliation. If you have children at home, the courts may also intervene regarding custody.
But there is no need for a postnup. Only when there is actually a legal divorce does any agreement regarding assets and other affairs need to be reached. You are in our prayers.
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Are Postnuptial Agreements Moral?

<div>I want to get married but don’t want a wedding. What are my options?</div><div>I am not entirely sure what you mean by &#8220;wedding.&#8221; I will assume you mean that you do not want a full nuptial Mass. In that case, there are a few options:
<ul>
<li>A Liturgy of the Word with the exchange of vows. This is the usual choice when one spouse is not Catholic.</li>
<li>Exchanging vows at any regular parish Mass. I have seen couples exchange vows at a regular Sunday or daily Mass.</li>
<li>A simple exchange of vows and reception of the marriage blessing with nothing else. This is rare but not unheard of.</li>
</ul>
If the marriage is between two Catholics, the normative expectation is that the exchange of vows will take place within Mass (<a href="https://litpress.org/Products/GetSample/4641/9780814646410">Order of Celebrating Matrimony,</a> 29).  In this situation, you would need to explain to the priest your reasons for not wanting to exchange vows during a Mass.
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Can I Marry Without a Wedding?

Often when asked where the Bible condemns contraception some Christians appeal to Genesis 38:8-10. There, Onan, son of Judah, is told to have intercourse with his deceased brother’s wife to “perform the duty of a brother-in-law to her and raise up offspring for [his] brother” (v.8). But knowing the offspring wouldn’t be his, Onan “spilled the semen on the ground, lest he should give offspring to his brother” (v.9). The author immediately reports that “[God] slew” Onan because of his deed. This, it’s argued, reveals that contraception is contrary to God’s will.
Recently, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@catholicanswers/video/7269917297798794542?is_from_webapp=1&amp;sender_device=pc&amp;web_id=6983056260526589446">someone in our TikTok comment section</a> was not convinced:

Let’s take the latter objection first—that the text only describes what happens and doesn’t give us the prescription that we ought not to contracept.
Our critic is simply wrong. The text does tell us Onan’s deed conflicted with God’s will: “And what he did was displeasing in the sight of the LORD” (v.10). Given the implied assumption for this kind of religious text that we should avoid doing what displeases God, we can conclude that the passage is prescriptive and not merely descriptive. We can derive an “ought” from this event pertaining to at least one form of contraception: spilling semen to avoid conception.
This leads me to the first objection.
Our critic is right in saying it would be fallacious to move from God’s displeasure with one form of contraception to His displeasure with all forms of contraception. Spilling semen is not the only way a couple can contracept. Since that’s the only form of contraception that the above passage deals with, the appeal to Onan’s sin would only achieve the goal of providing evidence against that specific form of contraceptive act that Onan committed. More work would have to be done, whether biblically or philosophically, to determine whether other forms of contraception (e.g., the pill) are also displeasing to God. For an introductory philosophical explanation, see my articles <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/for-goodness-sake">“Sex for Goodness Sake,”</a> and <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/how-contraception-thwarts-love">“How Contraception Thwarts Love.”</a>
This is not to say, however, that a Catholic who makes the above argument is blameworthy for his lack of nuance. Often, the argument is given as an answer to the basic question of whether the Bible condemns contraception without any specification as to a particular form. And for a general question like that, Genesis 38:8-10 suffices.

Onan Died for This (and Nothing Else?)

<div>In 1 Samuel, David and Saul’s son Jonathan make a sacred covenant. What type of covenant was it?</div><div><blockquote>By the time David finished speaking with Saul, Jonathan’s life became bound up with David’s life; he loved him as his very self. Saul retained David on that day and did not allow him to return to his father’s house. Jonathan and David made a covenant, because Jonathan loved him as his very self. Jonathan took off the cloak he was wearing and handed it over to David, along with his military dress, even his sword, bow, and belt (1 Sam. 18:1-4).</blockquote>
The exact nature of the covenant is not explained. The fact that Jonathan hands over his clothing and weapon, which as the king&#8217;s son and a military commander would have been royal clothing and a royal weapon, is generally interpreted as a sign that Jonathan is ready to hand over the future throne to David. The general idea seems to be that Jonathan knows that David is a potential rival to the throne after Saul dies. Jonathan&#8217;s actions symbolize that he does not care if David is the one to ascend to the throne instead of him; he values David&#8217;s friendship too much to fight over the throne. This appears to be a covenant to mutually support one another as close friends, no matter what happens.
We see this arise when Saul plots to kill David (1 Sam. 20). Saul, knowing Jonathan&#8217;s affection for David, conceals his plan from his son. When David confronts Jonathan about the plot, Jonathan pleads his ignorance and promises to find out the truth and warn David if his life is truly in danger. For upholding his half of the covenant, Jonathan is rewarded by never having his family and descendants cast off as enemies of David when he ascends to the throne.
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What Was David and Jonathan’s Covenant?

The Summer Olympics open today in Paris, with a flotilla along the Seine reported to be replacing the traditional parade of nations into the main stadium. Very bold, very French. And this is before we get to the entertainment, which is always avante-garde no matter what country it’s in.
Another Olympic tradition seems to be popular cynicism. By the time we reach the opening ceremonies, the advertiser hype has already been cranked up for a year and the networks have been hard at work pre-curating our viewing experience. (It’s not enough for the Olympics to showcase elite international athletic competition—they have to create Memories that Will Last Forever and canonize a new crop of household heroes, every night at 9:38 p.m., live on tape.) And it wouldn’t be an Olympic year without fresh cheating and judging scandals that mar the purity of the Olympic ideal.
For Catholics, it seems like the Olympic ideal itself might suffer under scrutiny. Were not the modern Games, originated in 1896, based on competitions in ancient <a href="https://www.catholic.com/tract/is-catholicism-pagan">pagan</a> Greece, with their very name taken from the mountain where Zeus &amp; co. lived? Is not the conceit of the Games’ supposed transcendent ability to unite peoples a weak imposture of the only thing that can so unite them: <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/what-does-catholic-mean">Christ and his universal Church?</a>
I would say to both: yes, kind of. Certainly, the lore of the modern Olympics reaches back to ancient predecessors, who were pagan. And you can detect a hint of something quasi-religious about the glorification of athletic bodies (ever-more-immodestly clad with each iteration!) and about the idolization of sport as global Redeemer and Savior.
That said, I don’t think Catholics need to frown on the Olympics or avoid watching them (though I recommend skipping beach volleyball, or at least squinting heavily). In fact, there is much in this biannual festival for Catholics to admire and support.
The ancient Olympians were pagans, but the founder of the modern Olympics, a Frenchman named Pierre de Coubertin, was a devout Catholic. He set out not to revive worship of the Greek pantheon but to recapture what was worthy in classical culture. He saw in sport not a rival religion but a substitute for war; and in the striving for athletic excellence—with neither victory nor profit first in mind but effort and sportsmanship—he saw a chance to build virtue and perfect human nature in its unity of flesh and spirit.
The Olympic motto, Citius, Altius, Fortius (“Faster, Higher, Stronger”) was devised, it should therefore not surprise us to hear, by a priest of the order whose philosophers emphasized that unity: the Dominican Henri Didon.
The twentieth century gave us not just the modern Olympic phenomenon but the Church’s premier athlete-pope in John Paul II. During his papacy, the zealous soccer player and skier offered numerous official greetings and blessings to Olympic organizers and competitors and to other athletic bodies. In <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/messages/pont_messages/1984/documents/hf_jp-ii_mes_19840728_inizio-olimpiadi.html">his message</a> on the opening of the 1984 Summer Games in Los Angeles, he endorsed both the virtue of athletic competition and the Olympics’ symbolic value for fostering international accord. “This great event,” he wrote,
<blockquote>has significance not only for the world of sport as the expression of friendly athletic competition and the striving for human excellence but also for the future of the human community, which through sport gives external expression to the desire of all for universal cooperation and understanding. I offer my heartiest congratulations to the men and women who are representing their countries and I hope that at this world-wide encounter they will be worthy models of peaceful harmony and human fellowship.</blockquote>
If the Olympics are pagan, they’re pagan in that grand, humanistic, admirable sense that the best of classical culture was—a sense that’s better than ninety-nine percent of the profane pablum that mean, mediocre modernity offers in its place. Despite all their imperfections, may they continue to inspire a natural standard of virtue and peace that, someday, grace may perfect in human hearts.

Are the Olympics Pagan?

Readers of the four Gospels are struck by the fact that when Jesus appears before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, he says nothing in his own defense.
This isn’t just surprising to us; it also was striking to Pilate. We’re told:
<blockquote>Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?”
But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge; so that the governor wondered greatly (Matt. 27:13-14).</blockquote>
What should we make of Jesus’ silence? There have been many proposals.
<blockquote>During his trial, Jesus has been silent, a fact that has no genuine analogies in Greek, Roman, or later Christian trials. Jesus’ silence has often been explained with reference to the silence of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53:7 (with whom Jesus is thus identified), but Mark and the other Gospel writers do not alert their readers that such an allusion is intended; or with the silence of the righteous sufferer (Pss. 38:14-16, 39:9); as fulfilment of Psalm 22:15; as a reflection of Jesus’ portrayal as a sage or teacher of wisdom; as an expression of self-control and perhaps nobility; as Jesus proving that he is in command or showing his contempt for those who sit in judgment over him; or as showing that he is the eschatological judge before the final verdict (Eckhard Schnabel, Mark: An Introduction and Commentary, at 14:60-61a).</blockquote>
But what’s the real explanation?
It helps to note that his appearance before Pilate is not the first time Jesus has been silent. A few hours earlier, when he appeared before the Jewish ruling council, he was similarly quiet:
<blockquote>Now the chief priests and the whole council sought testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many bore false witness against him, and their witness did not agree.
And some stood up and bore false witness against him, saying, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.’” Yet not even so did their testimony agree.
And the high priest stood up in their midst, and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer to make? What is it that these men testify against you?”
But he was silent and made no answer (Mark 14:55-61a).</blockquote>
However, there was one thing that did prompt Jesus to make a response:
<blockquote>Again the high priest asked him, “Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?”
And Jesus said, “I am; and you will see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:61b-62).</blockquote>
From this we see that Jesus apparently isn’t interested in responding to the charges made against him—even false ones like him saying that he would destroy the Temple—but there is one thing he is interested in answering: the question of his identity.
When directly asked if he is the Christ, the “Son of the Blessed” (i.e., the Son of God), he responds straightforwardly: “I am.” He then identifies himself with the heavenly “Son of Man” figure from Daniel 7:13-14, who was given everlasting dominion over all peoples by God.
At the time, this figure was believed by some Jews to be a divine person who was sometimes referred to as “the lesser Yahweh,” and Jesus’ identification of himself with this figure was regarded by the high priest as blasphemy, so he tore his robes (Mark 14:63-64).
Jesus’ silence before the council on everything except one point is then replicated when he is brought before Pilate:
<blockquote>Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
And he answered him, “You have said so.”
And the chief priests accused him of many things. And Pilate again asked him, “Have you no answer to make? See how many charges they bring against you.”
But Jesus made no further answer, so that Pilate wondered (Mark 14:2-5).</blockquote>
Here again, Jesus is willing to address one question: the issue of his identity. When asked if he is king of the Jews, he responds affirmatively but somewhat cryptically. He could have simply said, “I am”—just as he did when the high priest asked if he was the Christ, the Jewish Messiah, who was understood as a coming king of the Jews.
However, here he says, “You have said so.” This is an acknowledgment that he does have that role, but he’s being cautious for a reason that we will come back to.
Other than this one point, however, Jesus does not respond to any of the other things said against him. Mark does not tell us what the charges were, but Luke fills at least some of them in:
<blockquote>They began to accuse him, saying, “We found this man perverting our nation, and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ a king. . . . He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee even to this place” (Luke 23:2-5).</blockquote>
Jesus had no interest in responding to these charges—including the false one that he forbade paying taxes to Caesar (in fact, he had done the exact opposite—Mark 12:17, Luke 20:25).
When Pilate heard that Jesus was Galilean, he then sent him to Herod Antipas, but here again, Jesus was silent:
<blockquote>When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. So he questioned him at some length; but he made no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him (Luke 23:8-10).</blockquote>
Apparently, unlike the high priest and Pilate, Herod did not raise the issue of Jesus’ identity in a direct enough way, and Jesus ignored the accusations being made.
So what’s the reason for his silence? The answer is found by looking at Jesus’ recent actions.
Jesus has already made three major predictions of his coming death and resurrection (Mark 8:31, 9:30-31, 10:33-34), the most explicit of which is the final one:
<blockquote>Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles; and they will mock him, and spit upon him, and scourge him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise (Mark 10:33-34).</blockquote>
He thus foresaw that upon going to Jerusalem, he would be taken into custody by the Jewish authorities, turned over to the Romans, and sentenced to death.
Upon arriving at Jerusalem, he fulfilled a messianic prophecy from Zechariah 9:9 by triumphantly riding the foal of a donkey into the city, depicting himself as the king of Jerusalem described in Zechariah, and being proclaimed by the joyful crowd as “the king of Israel” (John 12:13), “the king who comes in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38), and “the Son of David” (Matt. 21:9). He even refused to silence the crowd when urged to do so by the Pharisees (Luke 19:39-40).
Then he set himself on a collision course with the Jewish temple authorities by driving out of the Temple those who bought and sold sacrificial animals and by overturning the tables of the moneychangers (Matt. 21:12-13, Mark 11:15-17, Luke 19:45-46; cf. John 2:14-22).
He was then arrested, tried by the Jewish council, and delivered to Pilate for execution—just as his passion predictions indicate he had planned.
This gives us the key to understanding both Jesus’ silence and his responses to the question of his identity.
He is silent to the charges against him because he is here to die. He is not interested in defending himself against false charges, like saying he would destroy the Temple or that one should not pay taxes to Caesar. His disciples knew the truth about these matters, but he isn’t interested in convincing the authorities of his innocence. He’s planning on being put to death.
His silence also may be a fulfillment of messianic prophecies, such as Isaiah’s statement about the Suffering Servant:
<blockquote>He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth (Isa. 53:7).</blockquote>
However, fundamentally he is here to die, and therefore he needs to be convicted of something that carries the death penalty.
This is why he responds on the question of his identity when the high priest asks if he is the Christ. He frankly says, “I am.” However, claiming to be the Messiah was not guaranteed to be regarded as a crime by the Jewish council, so Jesus does not leave it there: he also claims to be a divine figure, the Son of Man, which he knows that the high priest will regard as blasphemy and worthy of death.
However, claiming to be a divine figure was not necessarily a crime to the Romans. Their emperors, among others, were popularly regarded as divine, and Pilate likely would not have known about the Jewish Son of Man, anyway, so Jesus drops this part in front of Pilate.
Instead, when Pilate asks him if he is king of the Jews, he acknowledges this, but in a cryptic way that gives him what we now call “plausible deniability”—i.e., you’ve said that I’m the king of the Jews. I haven’t said that.
John clarifies that Jesus even told Pilate, “My kingship is not of this world” (John 18:36)—indicating that he isn’t interested in political power and thus not interested in challenging the authority of Caesar, who then held the authority to appoint Jewish kings.
Pilate thus emerges from his conference with Jesus and tells the Jewish authorities that he doesn’t find Jesus guilty of any crime, which causes the authorities to stir up the crowd to demand Jesus’ execution, and Pilate finally capitulates.
Jesus thus gives Pilate only an acknowledgment of his royal status, but it’s cryptic, and he clarifies that he’s not interested in political power.
This makes it appear that Jesus wanted responsibility for his execution to ultimately fall on the Jewish authorities, in accordance with messianic prophecy. As Jesus himself said,
<blockquote>Have you not read this Scripture: “The very stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes”? (Mark 12:10-11, quoting Psalm 118:22-23).</blockquote>
We thus see Jesus performing a complex set of maneuvers in order to fulfill his mission: He is silent against false charges because he is here to die; he says enough to the Jewish authorities to bring about his conviction; he is truthful with the Roman authorities about his lack of interest in worldly rule; and ultimately, it is the action of the Jewish authorities that causes Pilate to capitulate and order his execution—in accordance with the prophecy that the Jewish authorities (the builders) would reject Jesus (the stone).

Jesus vs. Pontius Pilate

The relationship between <a href="https://www.catholic.com/encyclopedia/state-and-church">Church and State</a> is thorny. What form of allegiance do citizens owe to their religion? What do they owe to their country? When is it moral to resist state actions—and in what way?
Our ability to pose the questions is part of the heritage of the Christian faith—and not simply because of the word Church.
Every culture in history has had some kind of religion and some kind of government, so “church” and “state” have always existed. And they have always had a relationship, as religion binds people together and promotes the stability of society. The state thus needs to deal with it.
Except even that way of framing the issue is modern. It presupposes that church and state are two different things, and in many cultures, they weren’t.
<h2>Through ancient eyes</h2>
If you lived in a particular culture, you were usually expected to hold to the state religion and worship whatever God or gods it upheld. Thus, in Athens, one of the charges leading to Socrates’s execution was the allegation he did not believe in “the gods of the state” (Plato, Apology).
But that could be the case even if church and state were distinct, and in many cultures, they weren’t. The political leaders were the religious leaders.
In Egypt, Pharaoh was a god—the “living Horus” or human manifestation of the falcon-headed sky god. He was also high priest as well as political ruler. Pharaoh may have had two sets of duties—religious and governmental—but at the highest level, church and state were one.
The same was true in Rome. The priests (pontifices and flamines) were drawn from the political class, and the emperor was high priest (pontifex maximus). Some emperors were declared gods, either after their deaths (Julius Caesar, Augustus, Claudius) or worshiped in Rome during their lifetimes (Caligula, Nero).
<h2>Joined at the hip</h2>
A tight union between Church and State could support the stability of both, but it also made it difficult to change either. The two were joined at the hip and had a natural interest in supporting each other.
If a foreign traveler was willing to worship the local gods, well and good. He would not disrupt the social order. A state might even tolerate minority religions—especially among foreigners.
But if the minority religion started making converts, local religious officials would be alarmed. And if sizeable numbers began adopting a new faith, it would be perceived as a threat to the state. Thus, Christianity was persecuted as it expanded into new lands and began making converts.
Refusing to participate in the state’s prescribed religious rites was seen as an act of disloyalty and thus as treason. This is why such rites were used as a test in the trials of martyrs.
In some places, religious tests still are used. In the United Kingdom, under the Accession Declaration Act of 1910, the British monarch (and head of the Church of England) <a href="https://www.nashuatelegraph.com/news/local-news/2022/09/08/formal-steps-after-instant-shift-from-uk-queen-to-king/">is required</a> to profess the Protestant faith as a condition of office.
This isn’t the case in America. The U.S. Constitution provides that “no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust” (6:3), though this doesn’t mean you’ll be elected or confirmed if your religion is out of favor.
Despite the historically close association of church and state, Christians have seen a sharper distinction between the two than other cultures—a distinction rooted in the history of the Faith.
<h2>Different from the beginning</h2>
Abraham came from a pagan family that worshiped Mesopotamian gods (Josh. 24:2), but Yahweh spoke to him and called him out of his native land.
In the age of the patriarchs, God’s people were governed along family lines, with the head of the household (or later, tribe) exercising ruling authority. The patriarchs also functioned as priests, building altars to God and offering sacrifices (Gen. 12:7-8, 26:25, 33:20, etc.).
This changed when the tribe of Levi was assigned the Israelite priesthood. That separated it from the governing authorities, in stark contrast from other nations.
When the Israelites first came into the Promised Land, they were governed by Joshua, who belonged to the tribe of Ephraim and thus was not a priest. Afterward, each tribe was ruled by its elders, along patriarchal lines.
There also were a series of “judges” (Hebrew, shopetim), though this translation can be misleading, as their principal function wasn’t hearing legal cases. They led battles against the enemies who often oppressed Israel. The term might be translated “chieftain” or even “warlord.” These leaders could be drawn from any tribe.
The era of judges ended with Samuel. He happened to be a Levite and a priest, but this was unusual. When he was old, he appointed his sons judges, but they were corrupt and took bribes, leading the people to demand a king, like in other nations (1 Sam. 8:1-5).
Until then, Israel was a loosely governed tribal confederacy, with God regarded as its overall monarch. Thus, when the demand for a king arose, “the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them’” (1 Sam. 8:7).
The first king chosen was Saul, who was of the tribe of Benjamin. Later kings, such as David, came from the tribe of Judah. Because the religious and governing authorities were separate, the distinction between church and state was in the consciousness of Israel, even if the institutions supported each other.
The line of kings ended with the Babylonian Exile, but when the people returned, the pattern remained the same. The priesthood stayed in Levite hands, and individuals such as Zerubbabel of Judah were appointed political governors, though ultimate power lay with the Persians.
Judea had only limited autonomy in this period, as various foreign powers sparred for control of the territory.
Around 167 B.C., the Seleucid ruler Antiochus Epiphanes issued a decree compelling Jews to abandon their religion. This prompted a priest named Mattathias to begin a rebellion. It was ultimately carried through by his sons, especially Judah “the Hammer” Maccabee, which is why his family—the Hasmoneans—came to be called the Maccabees.
The Hasmoneans assumed the high priesthood and became the effective local rulers. In 104 B.C., one of them, Aristobulus I, assumed the title “king.” This was an unusual situation, not seen since the days of Samuel, when the political and religious leaders were the same.
Intrigues among the Hasmoneans led to their downfall. After political control passed to the Romans, the conniving Antipater the Idumean was given political control of Judea. He was Jewish by religion but an Edomite by nationality, and his son Herod the Great was appointed king by the Roman Senate.
When Herod died, his kingdom was divided among his sons, but the one appointed to rule Judea—Archelaus—proved so bad that he was replaced by a Roman governor, which is why Pontius Pilate was in charge during the ministry of Christ.
Through all this, the priesthood remained in Levite hands. There were dramatic changes in how God’s people were governed politically—by patriarchal elders, judges, kings, governors, and other officials—but the fact that church and state were separate helped the religion continue.
<h2>“Render unto Caesar”</h2>
During Christ’s ministry, the Romans held ultimate authority, but they often used client rulers—such as Herod’s sons Antipas and Philip, who had the title “tetrarch” (ruler of a quarter)—while Judea itself was under the Roman governor.
There also was a Jewish ruling council, the Sanhedrin, that had limited authority, principally for judging matters under Jewish law. The high priest sat on the Sanhedrin, as did many priests. They were joined by religious leaders such as the Pharisees as well as members of the secular Jewish aristocracy.
The complex relationship between religious and civil leaders is seen when the Jewish authorities determine to put Jesus to death. They had to get the consent of the Roman governor because they were forbidden to impose the death penalty (John 18:31).
The division between religious and political authorities, as well as the many forms the latter had taken, is part of the background to Jesus’ statement about paying taxes: “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s” (Luke 20:25).
His opponents, who tried to trap him into making either a seditious or impious statement, were amazed, and “marveling at his answer they were silent” (v. 26).
This was a marvelous answer, one that would have been unthinkable in Egypt or Rome, where religious and political leaders were one and the same. In such nations, there could be no division between religious duties and civic ones, no separate spheres appropriate to church and state.
But drawing on the complex history of Israel and the undeniable situation of Judea at the time, Jesus acknowledged the legitimacy of the two realms.
<h2>“Obey God rather than men”</h2>
This didn’t mean one sphere wouldn’t encroach on the other, so Christians have had to face dilemmas.
When the Sanhedrin arrested the apostles, the high priest informed them, “We strictly charged you not to teach in [Jesus’] name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us” (Acts 5:28).
He may have been concerned that the apostles’ preaching would lead to a popular uprising against the council, or at least a wave of public disrespect eroding its authority.
“Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than men’” (Acts 5:29). They thus acknowledged that obligations to God take priority when in conflict with orders from a human authority (either religious or secular, as the Sanhedrin had both).
This principle doesn’t settle all questions about how apparent conflicts are to be resolved. Sometimes people think they have an absolute divine mandate when they don’t (cf. John 16). Or there may be ways to square two seemingly contrary things.
St. Thomas More would have been willing at the time to support the 1534 Act of Succession if it had been worded differently and required him only to acknowledge Anne Boleyn as queen and her children as in the line of succession for the English throne. These were matters of civil law he could accept, though he disapproved of Henry VIII’s marital situation. However, the requirement of repudiating the pope violated his obligations to God.
<h2>“No authority except from God”</h2>
The biblical authors recognized that God is in control of history. He at least allows every event to occur, for with omnipotence he could always stop it.
They also saw God’s providence including plans for running human society, and we have a responsibility to cooperate with these plans. St. Paul says, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God” (Rom. 13:1).
This is striking, because most governing authorities were pagan, yet Paul sees them as instituted by God. It’s especially striking that he wrote this to the Church in Rome, which was the seat of the empire. He expects readers to understand that even the pagan Roman Empire is, in some sense, instituted by God as a governing authority and owed obedience.
He underlines this: “Therefore he who resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment” (v. 2). And he explains that the ruler “is God’s servant for your good” by punishing wrongdoers on God’s behalf (vv. 3-5).
St. Peter says the same: “Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to praise those who do right” (1 Peter 2:13-14).
This is striking, because the emperor at the time was Nero. Though he hadn’t yet begun persecuting Christians, he had shown himself a dangerous, vain, unstable ruler who killed his mother and had delusions of godhood.
Nero also came to office because of a murderous power play. His mother, Agrippina the Younger, married the emperor Claudius, got him to adopt Nero, and then poisoned him so Nero could replace him. Next, Claudius’s biological son, Britannicus, was poisoned to eliminate him as a rival.
Despite all this, Peter and Paul saw Nero as <a href="https://www.catholic.com/encyclopedia/civil-allegiance">an instrument of God</a> owed respect and obedience—so long as it didn’t require disobedience to God.
No doubt, they weren’t expressing their full views of the emperor in these passages, which are meant to encourage Christians to be peaceable toward the state—something that would protect Christians and further the cause of evangelization. But Peter and Paul wouldn’t have taught obedience toward rulers if they didn’t believe in it.
<h2>Diversity of regimes</h2>
Historically, Christian thinkers have been open to monarchies, aristocracies, and democracies—as well as combinations of them (Aquinas, ST I-II:105:1).
<blockquote>If authority belongs to the order established by God, the choice of the political regime and the appointment of rulers are left to the free decision of the citizens. The diversity of political regimes is morally acceptable, provided they serve the legitimate good of the communities that adopt them (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1901).</blockquote>
But what if you’re dealing with a bad regime?
The New Testament doesn’t go into when it is legitimate to change a regime. Christians were a tiny minority and had no need to deal with such questions.
However, the Romans had to face them. Repeatedly. Rome had been governed by kings, but they grew sick of them. The last, Tarquinius Superbus (“Tarquin the Proud”), was dethroned by a popular uprising around 509 B.C., after which Rome was a republic.
This lasted until the first century B.C., when a series of civil wars occurred. Among the key players were two groups of three men, known as the First Triumvirate (which included Julius Caesar) and the Second Triumvirate (which included Augustus). The triumvirates proved unstable, and when the dust settled, Augustus was declared Rome’s first emperor.
He had a reputation as a good (if ruthless) ruler, but not all his successors did. The mad emperor Caligula (r. A.D. 37-41) was so awful that his own guards killed him. Nero (r. A.D. 54-68) proved so bad that the Senate declared him a public enemy, and he was forced to commit suicide. That touched off the disastrous “Year of Four Emperors” (A.D. 69), which was wracked by civil wars as emperors rapidly succeeded one another.
Jews and Christians lived through these events, but they held no political power and did not have to weigh in on the legitimacy of these actions.
<h2>Tyrannicide?</h2>
That would change when the empire became Christian. Once responsible for public welfare, they had to face what to do about problematic regimes.
The principle that the authorities are owed obedience, however they got into power, meant that in most situations, one needed to tolerate a difficult situation. If a ruler issued orders directly contrary to Christian teaching, they could be ignored, but otherwise one needed to obey.
But what if one was confronted with a regime doing grave harm—with a tyrant such as Caligula or Nero?
Historically, the only reliable way to remove a tyrant was to kill him, lest he try to get his throne back and cause more bloodshed. This raised the issue of tyrannicide, or when it’s okay to kill a tyrant.
Given that the authorities govern on God’s behalf, and the need for social stability, Christian thinkers were reluctant to endorse tyrannicide. They could appeal to the fact that, even when Saul was trying to kill David, he refused to raise his hand against “the Lord’s anointed” (1 Sam. 26:9-11).
But many were prepared to endorse killing a particular kind of tyrant: a tyrant by usurpation, or one who seized power when he didn’t have a legitimate claim to it.
They could appeal to the Jewish queen Athaliah, who seized the throne for six years after attempting to kill the entire royal family. There was one survivor, who was anointed as the legitimate king, upon which Athaliah was killed (2 Kings 11:1-20).
Aquinas held, “He who kills a tyrant [by usurpation] to free his country is praised and rewarded” (2 Sentences 44:2:2).
But there was another kind of tyrant: a tyrant by oppression, one who gravely misused his authority. Catholic authors debated under what conditions such an individual could be killed, but in general there was a negative attitude toward this possibility.
<h2>The state of the question</h2>
The <a href="https://www.catholic.com/qa/how-much-authority-does-the-catechism-of-the-catholic-church-carry">Catechism</a> doesn’t deal with tyrannicide, but it lays out principles for dealing with problematic regimes.
Christians should be subject to those in authority, but they have “the right, and at times the duty, to voice their just criticisms” for the good of the community (2238). They also need to lead an active political life (2239-40). When civil authorities issue immoral commands, Christians are to refuse to obey them (2242).
But armed resistance is not authorized unless
<blockquote>(1) there is certain, grave, and prolonged violation of fundamental rights,
(2) all other means of redress have been exhausted,
(3) such resistance will not provoke worse disorders,
(4) there is well-founded hope of success, and
(5) it is impossible reasonably to foresee any better solution (2243).</blockquote>
The Catechism thus envisions progressively greater interventions to address problems, from criticism to protest to armed resistance—the latter being permitted only in the gravest cases and under specific conditions.